


The Manner Of Things

by Kawaiibooker



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, John saves Arthur for once, Light Angst, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiibooker/pseuds/Kawaiibooker
Summary: Arthur's in jail, John and Javier come to the rescue.





	The Manner Of Things

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.
> 
> This is a commission for wonderful [Klingoni](https://twitter.com/KaburagiKotetsu). Thank you for supporting me!

Arthur Morgan fucked up.

“How can you tell?”, Javier asks him without looking up, eyes and mind tethered to the knife he's sharpening between deft, careful fingers.

Taking another drag from his cig, John shrugs, watches the metal glint and reflect the glare of the sun above. Half a lifetime of following Arthur around will do that to a man, the joke is on his lips – putting the truth into words has never been easy, not for him. Perhaps not even for Arthur.

 _We're Dutch's boys alright_ , John thinks. He hesitates.

Javier does look then, a fragment of a glance at John's face, his knees that jump with nervous energy. Being too transparent again, and sometimes John forgets there's more people involved than just the four of 'em.

“I just know.” The butt of the cigarette hisses against wet bark as John puts it out. “Besides, Arthur missin' poker night? Don't think so.”

Javier snorts, flipping the knife in his grip before sleekly sheathing it. “What are we waiting for then?”

John's grin pulls at the scars across his face, tender still but healing. “My question exactly.”

*

It's quite a stretch till Strawberry but to John, the miles blur into one entity that stands between him and Arthur, status unknown. They hear rumors, here and there: about a famous outlaw caught at last and high hopes for a hanging.

John's grip on his reins goes tight, knuckles bloodless and white. Old Boy picks up speed and Boaz follows suit soon after.

Usually, these rides are filled with chit-chat and teasing remarks; John is quiet, however, lost in his head and aware of the silence nonetheless and Javier, well... As loyal and dependable as the man is, he never seems to make a habit of prying beyond what could be reasonably deemed his business. It's a quality John has always liked about him.

Strawberry's jail is really nothing impressive. The brick wall to one side has been recently repaired – a vague memory of Arthur's angry voice comes to mind, lips pulled back in a snarl as he ranted about _Micah this, Micah that_ – and Javier shoots him a smug little smirk as John digs in Old Boy's saddlebags for the dynamite.

This method, one of Dutch's, has none of the elegance of Hosea's more elaborate plans: get the horses ready, chat up the sheriff, plant the TNT and the rest is pure luck. John has done this spiel one too many times to be truly nervous. Still, there's a funny feeling in his chest between excitement and anticipation, and it only gets stronger when – _boom_! – the freshly painted wall is blown to smithereens.

Even before the dust has settled John is there, climbing over loose bricks and splintered wood. “Arthur! You alive in there?” His heart is loud in his ears, too loud to hear much of anything at first; then, finally, a string of curses in a familiar cadence–

“Fuckin' hell– Marston?!”

John's expression cracks into a grin. “Yeah, 's me. Thought you'd appreciate a little pick-me-up.” Helping Arthur to his feet, he presses a loaded revolver in his hand. “C'mon, Javier's got your horse–”

As if on cue, said man lets out a delighted “Whoop!” outside as he opens fire. “At least someone's havin' fun”, Arthur grumbles but follows the tug of John's hand on his arm–

“Wait! My hat...”

John sighs, loudly. “I'll get it, just– Get outta here, 'kay?”

For one infinite second, their eyes meet – John knows that deep, worried blue better than he knows himself, from moments just like this all the way to that fateful day in the snow. “Go”, he tells him, lets him go. “I'll meet ya on the hill.”

“John–”

Arthur stops, jaw clenching tight. He nods, and John watches him disappear into the dust.

*

Maybe risking his life for a hat wasn't the best of decisions.

Old Boy is huffing and puffing underneath him, clearly tired from the long ride but pushing on just as stubbornly as John is. The shootout with the law went on for quite a while, long enough that John was down to a few bullets and a prayer when the big gelding came into view.

Still: Arthur's hat is safely tied to his saddle, a little dustier than usual but in one piece. John allows his horse to slow when he's certain he's not being followed anymore, patting Old Boy's sweat-damp neck proudly. “Well done, boy... Saved my ass again, huh?”

The hill appears behind some trees soon after. There, at its crest: two silhouettes framed in soft, gold light. John smiles a little crookedly and waves, watches as the left one shifts and comes towards him. Arthur gains definition from his horse's white coat to the bright blue of his shirt until John can make out his face, the relief etched into every crease around his eyes.

“Sure took your sweet time. Me an' Javier was startin' to think up some ideas for your grave. What do you think'a 'John Marston, lived a fool, died a fool'?”

John snorts, getting off his horse in one smooth motion. “And leave you two to fend for yourselves? Don't think so. Here, you ungrateful bastard.”

Instead of taking the offered hat, Arthur leans over the neck of his mare until John can reach high enough to put it on his head. John opens his mouth – to call him lazy, or perhaps drop the ancient joke of “old man” that Arthur finds so irritating – but instead finds his lips occupied by Arthur's, chapped and warm and so familiar.

John's heart skips a beat; clinging to Arthur's collar, he pulls him into the kiss, pulse rushing with residue adrenaline yet calming with every sweet motion shared between them. They part gradually, with panted breaths and one last, lingering kiss.

“Thank you”, Arthur murmurs, the fondness in his voice making John's face feel warm. He tips his hat. “For this and for breakin' me out. I owe ya.”

Huffing, John pushes him back into the saddle, rolling his eyes at Arthur's quiet laugh. “Don't get used to it, idiot.” Back on Old Boy, he catches up to Arthur, following him to where Javier is smoking a cigarillo while he waits.

He doesn't mention the blush still burning on John's cheeks. Javier is good like that.

“What even happened? 's unlike you to be this careless.”

It's Arthur's turn to be a little flustered. “Ah, well”, he starts, scratching his neck. “I was comin' into town a bit hot and uh–”

“He ran over the mayor's lover”, Javier supplies drily. “The one that's _not_ his wife. Thus exposing their affair....”

Arthur's expression is sheepish for it to be true. John chuckles, shakes his head incredulously.

“ _How_ do these things keep happening around you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Javier is best wingman 2k19 and I love him.
> 
> The kiss is inspired by [this beautiful art](https://twitter.com/KaburagiKotetsu/status/1077304817998053377) by [Klingoni](https://twitter.com/KaburagiKotetsu), I just couldn't resist...
> 
> [tumblr](https://kawaiibooker.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kawaiibooker)


End file.
